


A Tenuous Theory

by DivineProvidence



Category: Vampyr (Video Game)
Genre: Blood Addiction, Blood Drinking, First Kiss, Injury Recovery, Knifeplay, Love/Hate, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Mistrust, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-19
Updated: 2018-08-19
Packaged: 2019-06-29 20:54:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15737163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DivineProvidence/pseuds/DivineProvidence
Summary: When Geoffrey McCullum is admitted to the Pembroke Hospital with heavy blood loss and a serious injury, Dr Reid is expecting the experience to be unpleasant. They strike up an unlikely acquaintance than leads to an interesting theory about the good doctor's affliction.





	A Tenuous Theory

**Author's Note:**

> The wonderful stillswashere has drawn [this](https://stillswashere.tumblr.com/post/177841007230/why-would-i-help-you-leech-because-you-enjoy) fantastic piece inspired by A Tenuous Theory :3 Check out their other stuff on Tumblr!

The night had been a relatively calm one so far. After the Red Queen returned to her slumber the epidemic had stopped spreading; people were getting better at a surprising rate. There were empty beds in the Pembroke now and the nurses seemed in higher spirits with the reduced work load.

Gripped by a terrible guilt for the passing of his beloved Elisabeth, Dr. Reid had locked himself away in his room in the hospital for well over a week now. He answered his door to no one. He hadn’t been outside. Hadn’t slept. Hadn’t fed. He worked. He mourned.

People had stopped knocking at his door, which is why the sharp tap startled him. A flurry of papers cascaded across the floor, glass test tubes and pipettes clinked against each other. He glowered towards the door, eyes dark and sunken with lack of sleep.

“Dr. Reid?” Dorothy Crane’s voice cut through the silence.

He didn’t move. Didn’t speak. As far as she was concerned he wasn’t here. He had no time for his trivial hospital duties. He needed to perfect the cure.

“Dr. Reid, if you are in there, a man has just been admitted and he is asking for you by name. He won’t let anyone come near him. He only wants to see you.”

No reply.

“His wounds are pretty serious, doctor. He has lost a lot of blood and will not last long without attention.”

A long pause. He had a duty of care to this man. No matter his own problems he must not forget his oath. He had spent too long cooped up in this room, mind festering with shame. The chair screeched against the tile as he stood up, grabbed his coat and flung the door open. 

The familiar stench of fresh blood washed over him, almost knocking him from his feet. Dorothy’s hands and apron where drenched in the stuff. A wave of aggressive need surged through him and he tried to school his expression into something calm and collected. Her look of concern implied he had failed at this. Her brow wrinkled into a frown.

“Are you alr-“

“I’m fine, Nurse Crane. Take me to the patient. Quickly.” 

She turned on her heels and marched off down the corridor, Dr. Reid falling in step behind her. Once downstairs the familiar hubbub of the hospital distracted him from the craving that tweaked at his senses. There was a commotion in one of the private rooms. A commotion they were headed straight towards. Jonathan could already tell exactly who would be waiting for him in the room by the angry Irish voice hurling abuse at Dr. Ackroyd as he attempted to administer some sort of aid.

“Please lie down Mr. McCullum. You need to calm dow-“

“Never tell an Irishman to calm down, Dr. Ackroyd,” Jonathan stated cooly, resting a hand on the other man’s shoulder. Waverly looked up at Dr.Reid, expression an equal mix of exasperation and relief that he was finally free to leave the situation.

“Good luck, Doctor.” He gave a short nod and left the room. Nurse Crane followed, closing the door behind her.

Jonathan turned his eyes on McCullum, who was breathing heavily, leaned against the side of the bed but seemingly with no intention of using it as it was designed. Someone had managed to wrestle him free of his jacket, which was folded neatly on a nearby chair. His shirt was stained a deep scarlet, the mess exuding from a thick black gash in his stomach.

“Jesus, Geoffrey… Please lie down.” He made a move towards the man, who lifted a small pewter cross in the hand that wasn’t clinging to the bedframe. Jonathan shielded his eyes against the discomfort.

“Stay back, leech,” McCullum growled, words slurred. His eyes were unfocussed and he seemed dazed. His hand dropped down to his side once again and he decided it was a good time to slump into the clean sheets of the bed. 

Cautiously Jonathan moved towards the man, hands still up to show him he meant no harm. 

“What happened?” he asked, hooking one arm around the back of his patient’s knees to hoist his legs up to join the rest of him. Geoffrey groaned through the pain and a thick squelch of fresh blood oozed from his stomach. The flow was slow which meant that no major blood vessels were cut. A good sign. Dr. Reid collected a few supplies from a nearby cupboard and set to work, cutting away the man’s shirt with scissors to reveal a second, deep laceration to his lower abdomen. His vision swam deep red and he swallowed dryly.

“What do you think happened?” McCullum spat, eyeing the doctor with a look of plain disgust, which turned to anguish as his saviour pressed a clean gauze dowsed in antiseptic to the wounds. 

“You’ll need stitches. There is no tearing of the intestinal lining but there is a great risk of infection.” He worked methodically, cleaning around the cuts and keeping pressure to stem the flow of blood. “You will have to stay in the hospital under close observation for a few days. No strenuous exercise or heavy lifting.”

“I’m not staying here.” His voice seemed small, far away. The blood loss was probably to blame. It would be so easy to frame his death as an accident. It was too late to save him. He’d already lost so much blood. Jonathan noticed he was clenching his teeth. His jaw ached. 

“Why did you come here then,” he snapped a little too viciously. Geoffrey eyed him cautiously from his prone position.

“Needed a doctor. I don’t know a lot of doctors.”

Silence fell between them as Jonathan prepared a tray to start the stitches. He threaded the curved needle deftly as he had done a thousand times before and leaned over his charge to begin.

“Dr. Ackroyd is not up to your standard?” A smirk pulled at the corner of Jonathan’s mouth. “This is going to hurt.”

“I’m used to it. I can handle it.” McCullum seemed to ignore the doctor’s little joke.

Dr Reid applied a clean gauze and bandage after completing the stitches. His patient had barely made a sound through the ordeal and he found himself quite impressed at his fortitude. After tidying up a little he sank into a chair a little way off and stared at McCullum over tented fingers. The silence dragged on and he had begun to assume that the other man had succumbed to unconsciousness.

“How do you do it?” a rasping voice broke the silence.

“Do what?”

“Control yourself around all this…”

“Blood?” The word seemed to stick to his tongue. 

“Right.”

“I’d be lying if I said it was easy.” He got up, filled a glass of water at the sink in the corner and set it down on the bedside table within easy reach. “You need to rest, Geoffrey. I will have someone check on you through the night.” He turned to leave the room.

“Reid.”

Jonathan stopped, turned slightly to glance back over his shoulder.

“Thank you.”

“Good night.”

*****

Jonathan slept for the first time in over a week. It was a fitful slumber and he awoke several times to bad dreams of ancient evil and burning pyres. When the night finally arrived, he felt restless and desperately thirsty. He tried to distract himself from the painful craving with study, but he couldn’t concentrate. In a fit of listless energy, he took to roaming the hospital in search of something to do. He didn’t feel comfortable leaving the confines of his lair and stalking the streets of London. Not when he was so frenzied with bloodlust. At least in the confines of this institution he had Dr. Swansea to relate to. Though he hadn’t spoken to the man since returning, still unable to comprehend the unethical treatment of his beloved.

He found himself outside McCullum’s private room, not really certain how he had ended up there. While he was here, he supposed he should check up on him. Make sure he hadn’t ripped any of his stitches.

Jonathan knocked and waited.

“Yeah?” The gruff Irish voice had some strength in it this evening. Promising.

He pushed open the door and observed that his patient was sitting up in bed, writing in a small, leather bound book. He closed the book immediately upon seeing Jonathan and tucked it underneath his pillow. His interest had been piqued and Jonathan desperately wanted to know what was written in that tome.

“Good evening, Geoffrey. How are you feeling?”

The other man barked out a laugh and grimaced as his stomach muscles tensed. “Oh grand, Dr. Reid. I feel peachy.” He quirked an eyebrow as the doctor approached him and stared into his face intently. “You look like shit, doc.”

“Eloquently put,” Jonathan noted with a small smile. “I am experiencing some rather serious withdrawal symptoms. Nothing out of the ordinary.” He went to check his patients pulse and McCullum flinched away warily. Another grimace of pain. Jonathan glared at him, lifted his hands in a gesture he hoped conveyed his peaceful intent and then slowly made a move forward to try again. Geoffrey let him. 

“There must be some way you can get…” he trailed off, not wanting to finish the sentence. Perhaps it felt too vulgar.

“Believe me, Geoffrey, I have thought about it. It is better to abstain. If I were to start again I don’t know if I could stop.” He checked his patient’s pupils. His eyes seemed more focussed today. His skin was pale but not clammy. All good signs. A nurse had changed his dressing and it looked clean. He would have been informed if there were signs of infection. “Everything looks good. I expect you to make a full recovery. You’re lucky you got here when you did.”

“So, I can leave?”

“No, I know you better than you think. If you leave you will rip your stitches. You’re staying here until I remove them.”

“How long? I can’t lead the Guard from a damned hospital bed.”

“At least two weeks.”

“No.” McCullum made to get out of bed, flinging the sheets off himself and gingerly manoeuvring his legs over the edge. His hands splayed against the mattress and he attempted to push himself up with a stifled groan. 

“Please, lie down, Geoffrey. You’re going to-“ The bandages around the injured man’s waste turned red at the site of his injury. The sweet scent of fresh blood filled Jonathan’s nostrils and all other thoughts were smothered by it. His hands wrapped around McCullum’s throat, forcing him back into the mattress with a cry of pain. The prostrate figure below him struggled, futile against the vice-like grip. A sudden, sharp pain snapped Jonathan out of his monstrous stupor. The skin of his neck and arms burned brightly with the searing pain he’d only experienced when subjected to sunlight. 

“What have you done to me,” he snarled, looking down at the seared flesh of his forearms. Geoffrey gasped for breath, one hand clutching at his bleeding stomach and the other holding up a small bottle with a holy cross on the label.

“I’m no fool, Reid. I will never trust you enough to let my guard down fully.”

“That is a wise course of action, McCullum,” he seethed through clenched teeth, bloodlust forgotten in the wake of pain. “I will get Nurse Crane to take a look at your stitches.”

“No. I want you to do it… I like to watch you suffer, leech.”

“Geoffrey, I don’t think you underst-“

“I understand fine.”

Reluctantly, Jonathan set to work under McCullum’s wary gaze. He got the impression that the vampire hunter enjoyed the power he wielded a little too much. He had known men like him in the army. Eager to prove themselves by any means. He had treated men like him for similar wounds. For worse wounds. It was easy to find yourself in hospital when you had something to prove. 

“All done. Please try not to rip them again.”

“Two weeks, you say?”

“Two weeks.”

*****

Jonathan couldn’t sleep. He was playing the scene over and over in his head. He had felt overwhelmed with desire for blood. He had felt pain. The desire had abated. Could there be an answer in there somewhere? Was this a suitable treatment for his affliction? The idea of being in pain was not a comfort, though surely it was better than the alternative. He definitely had access to a bountiful resource in McCullum. The man seemed to only exist to cause him pain. It was a hypothesis that needed further testing. He wasn’t sure how eager to help his perspective participant would be.

The day dragged on and on and he managed a few short bouts of fitful slumber before the night came.

He didn’t knock before entering the room, too eager to discuss his ideas with his captive audience. Nurse Branagan was in the midst of giving McCullum a wash and both of them looked up, surprised at the intrusion.

“Doctor, some privacy, please,” the Nurse insisted, shooing him back out of the room. 

“Of course, of course,” he muttered, colour rising in his pale cheeks as he let himself be ushered out. In an effort not to look over eager, he took a walk around the wards, checking charts and making polite conversation with patients who were up and about. He found his way back to McCullum’s room in time to see Gwenyth leaving.

“He’s all yours, doctor.”

“Thank you, Nurse.” He swept into the room, closing the door behind him. McCullum was sat up in bed again, his bare chest looked almost tanned against the stark white of his bandages. He seemed to have been waiting for Dr Reid’s return.

“I need your help with something,” Jonathan stated, straight to the point. He decided to remain standing so as to make a quick escape if necessary.

“Why would I help you, leech.” The word lacked its usual venom and Jonathan took that as encouragement.

“Because you enjoy watching me suffer,” he parroted bitterly.

“Colour me intrigued.” McCullum looked as though he would have sat forward if he could. Genuine interest was written into his features and an undercurrent of bloodlust that Jonathan could certainly relate to. He suddenly felt that this might not be as good an idea as it seemed in his head.

“I want you to hurt me.”

“I’m not sure I heard that quite right, vampire. You _want_ me to-“

“Hurt me, yes.” Jonathan’s mouth had gone dry.

“What is your game, leech?” It was plain in Geoffrey’s expression that he couldn’t think of anything more entertaining than beating the doctor to within an inch of his life, but his curiosity and zeal were tempered with scepticism.

“I need blood, Geoffrey. I can’t bare it anymore. I’m going to hurt someone and I won’t be able to control it. I don’t want to-“

“I’m not following,” the hunter interrupted, disgusted.

“Last night when I… assaulted you. I was consumed by my hunger. But then you…” he trailed off, miming splashing the contents of a bottle. The penny seemed to drop.

“I’m not exactly in a fit state to be bringing down righteous justice, am I?” McCullum jibed, gesturing towards the chair next to his bed. Jonathan sat down.

“When the stitches are removed.”

“You’re the strangest vampire I’ve ever met.”

*****

It was just under two weeks until the wounds were healed enough to remove the stitches. The nights dragged on so slowly that Jonathan couldn’t quite believe he had managed to wait. One night he had been reduced to chasing rats around the old morgue to satiate his hunger. He felt despicable.

Over the days leading up to the procedure, him and McCullum had spoken a little about trivialities. Where they grew up. What their fathers did when they were around. Their best vampire hunting stories. They were almost pleasant to each other. Of course, there was always a little dig here and there. Both were aware of the tenuous nature of their acquaintance.

When Jonathan turned up that night Geoffrey was sitting in the chair next to his bed, just because he could. He had refused to wear the hospital gown so was dressed in plain cotton breeches and a loose-fitting shirt which was open at the front. He wasn’t required to wear a dressing now, and the jagged lines of the lacerations stood out stark against his toned, pale abdomen.

“Dr. Reid.”

“…Geoffrey.” He gave a slight tip of his head then removed his coat and hung it on a hook by the door. “I’m here to remove your stitches. You can stay in the chair if you wish.” He prepared his equipment and set it down in a metal tray on the bedside table, then rolled up his sleeves and washed his hands and forearms at the sink in the corner. “Please, remove your shirt.” McCullum did so and Jonathan caught himself admiring the taught muscles of the other man’s shoulders as they moved. He cleared his throat and knelt down in front of his patient. He inspected the cut closely, pleased with how it was healing. “You may experience some discomfort.”

“No shit,” McCullum breathed as he watched the vampire lean in close.

Carefully the doctor clipped the stitches and tugged them free with sterile tweezers. Geoffrey was a model patient, staying calm and relaxed for the whole procedure. With the last of the thread removed, Jonathan sat back on his heels and admired his handiwork.

“Am I gonna survive, doc?”

“It’s difficult to say.” Geoffrey barked out a laugh at that and Jonathan found himself grinning. Somewhere over the last two weeks something had changed between them. They had stopped hating each other. Of course, neither trusted the other but they had managed to form an unlikely bond over the ordeal. “I’d like you to stay and rest for another week at least,” he said as he stood up. McCullum rose from his chair as well and they found themselves very close to each other.

“You said two weeks,” the hunter growled, folding his arms across his bare chest, elbows brushing against the other man. 

“I said _at least_ two weeks. I don’t want you running around London chasing vampires. I can keep an eye on you here.”

“Worried about me, Reid?” Geoffrey scoffed with a cheeky grin.

“It’s professional concern.”

“I’m sure it is.” A few beats of intense eye contact and then Geoffrey looked away towards the door. “Well I’m sick of this room. Show me round the hospital. Unless you have rounds or something?”

“I can spare some time…”

“Good. I wanted to talk to you about your theory.”

“That is not a conversation for the hallways,” Jonathan noted, grabbing his coat and holding the door open for his companion. 

“Show me somewhere private, then, vampire.”

“Please keep your voice down…” The doctor gestured through the doorway with one hand and rested the other on the hunter’s mid-back. They took a long route through the hospital, a tour of sorts, finishing at the door to Dr. Reid’s office. “Welcome to my lair, Vampire Hunter.”

“Cheesy son-of-a-bitch,” Geoffrey sighed and pushed the door open.

*****

“You never said you wanted to drink my blood,” McCullum balked, standing up so suddenly that the chair almost toppled over backwards. The glass of water he had left on the table wobbled dangerously. He grimaced and hunched a little as his wound radiated with a dull pain.

“I assumed it was implied with me being a vampire…” That earned him a furious glare. “I can’t test my theory without first setting up the appropriate circumstances. Geoffrey, please sit down.”

“No.” One hand was clenched tightly in the pocket of his trousers. Jonathan assumed he was clutching the small crucifix he had brandished at him when he had first arrived. At least he wasn’t waving it about. Small victories.

“I want to find out if it is possible to control the intake of blood using distraction techniques. I see no other way of testing for that.”

The hunter rested his hands on the table and leaned there, shaking his head. On the opposite side of the table Jonathan sat, quite relaxed, one leg crossed over the other at the ankle. He watched the agitated man across from him intently, feeling the pulse race inside him. Talking about the act of drinking blood always brought the cravings to the forefront of his attention. It was a struggle to focus on the conversation but so far he was managing.

“You’re to be restrained,” McCullum insisted after a while, sounding defeated. “I’m only doing this because you helped me. After that we are square.”

“Of course.”

“And if I need to I will kill you, Reid.”

“Understood, Hunter.”

“Christ, what am I doing…?” Geoffrey lamented, rubbing his face wearily and glaring at the other man through his fingers.

*****

With Edward’s permission, Jonathan acquired the use of the upper floor. With the synthetic sunlight as a back up plan McCullum seemed to find the whole situation more tolerable. They had borrowed a heavy wooden arm chair from storage and Milton had sources some strong rope with no questions asked. Now they were both standing in front of that chair there was a feeling of mutual trepidation permeating the room.

“This is a terrible idea, Reid.”

“It’ll work.” He didn’t sound nearly as sure as he had hoped.

“Well,” McCullum sighed heavily. “Sit down, Doctor.” He did so.

The ropes were tied a little tighter than he would have liked, securing his arms and legs to the limbs of the chair. Geoffrey wasn’t taking any chances. He wore his crucifix on a chain around his neck and it bounced heavily against his chest as he worked to secure the other man. The last time they had been up here he had been menacing. A force to be reckoned with. This time, in his breezy cotton pyjamas and tentative movements due to his recent injury, he was more human than Jonathan had ever seen him. Soft and unsure. This was a terrible idea.

“Ok, are you ready?” McCullum asked. He was standing behind the chair, hands on the vampire’s shoulders. Jonathan could just make out his voice over the heavy _th-thump_ of his heartbeat. The anticipation was boiling up inside him and his vision was swimming with a red haze.

“Ready…” he managed the words twisted into a dark snarl.

“This is so fucked up, Reid.” He must have cut his wrist with a knife because in an instant Jonathan’s senses were consumed with the intense aroma of fresh blood. His mouth found the source of the exquisite nectar and, unable to help himself, he clamped his jaws down. Somewhere far away he heard a stifled cry of pain and strong fingers entwined in his hair. Neither of these things were enough to deter him from his task. It had been months since he had first tasted human blood and he had almost forgotten the ecstasy of it. Every fibre of his being felt as though it was being renewed.

Sudden searing pain stabbed through his shoulder. The red haze was replaced by a striking white flash and he let out a desperate cry at the loss of such sweet bliss. He looked to his shoulder to find the source of the pain and saw the steel and bone handle of a switchblade knife jutting out at an angle. Geoffrey came into view, a thick wad of gauze pressed to one arm. There were drips of blood seeping into the white fabric of his trousers. Jonathan closed his eyes, letting his head fall back limp and focussing on the throbbing pain emanating from the knife blade stuck into his shoulder.

“It… worked.” McCullum sounded as surprised as Jonathan felt. He didn’t want to admit it but he was expecting this to go very wrong. At first, he was optimistic about his theory but as the time drew closer and he had more time to think about all the ways it could go wrong doubt had crept into his mind. “How do you feel, Jonathan.”  
He smiled at that.

“Finally, on first name terms, are we?” He grinned absently.

“You’ve been using my first name since we met, leech.” The words were indignant but there was a soft edge to his tone.

“Untie me.”

“No fucking way,” McCullum scoffed and Jonathan lifted his head, noticing that the hunter was keeping his distance. He hadn’t stayed alive so long making stupid mistakes like that. “You’re fine where you are. The experiment isn’t over until I’m satisfied that you’re… satisfied.”

“You need to clean that wound. There is some iodine in my bag, by the door.”

Slowly, McCullum backed towards the door, crouching to grab the bag and rifle through it. He found the small brown bottle and a clean gauze and set about cleaning the wound. It had already stopped bleeding. 

“I’d do a much better job of that,” Dr. Reid chimed in as he watched the other man.

“I’ve got it. Thanks.” With the iodine applied, Geoffrey moved back to stand in front of his captive vampire. “I should kill you now and do the world a favour…” he thought out loud.

“Probably… but I don’t think you will.”

“What makes you so sure?” He punctuated the question by yanking the knife out of the doctor’s shoulder. Blood flooded down the front of his shirt and Geoffrey used the other man’s sleeve to wipe the blade clean. Instead of folding it up and secreting it away, he leaned forward, resting one hand against Jonathan’s uninjured shoulder, trailing the knife’s point across his cheek with the other hand. The vampire’s gaze seems to bore directly into his soul, unblinking and as deep as the ocean. He can feel Jonathan’s cool breath against his face. Smell the tang of iron. And then he can taste it. Mouth crashing against mouth. Slick and hot and metallic.

It’s over almost as suddenly as it began. He pulled back, leaving the doctor’s head reeling. Awash with lust and uncertainty.

Without a word, McCullum slices through the rope that is securing Dr. Reid’s left arm and flips the knife, placing the handle in his palm. He turns on his heels and flees to the safety of the lift. Tugging the grate shut behind him twists a band of pain across his abdomen and he leans against the wall of the lift to steady himself. He meets the vampire’s gaze through the gaps between the slats of the door and feels a flurry of excitement course through him.

“This was a terrible idea…”

*****

His head has felt clear for the first time in weeks. He is able to navigate previously steadfast obstacles in his research. He manages to control his thirst when Thelma bites Thomas so hard she draws blood. People mention how well he is looking. He doesn’t see McCullum.

It takes two nights for the feeling of contented euphoria to wear off.

He wakes up in a puddle of his own sweat. His throat is parched and he tongue feels like sandpaper. He rolls out of his bed and manages to crawl to the phone. He calls down to the front desk and Nurse Crane answers.

“Dorothea.” His voice is husky. “Could you ask Mr. McCullum to come to my office? I need to check on his recovery but I seem to have come down with something and I’d rather not spread it around the hospital.”

“I can get Dr. Tippets to check on him, Doctor.”

“No, please, Nurse. I would prefer to see him myself.” She agrees and hangs up the phone and Jonathan leaves the receiver off the hook. He slumps into a chair to await his visitor.

Geoffrey takes a while to turn up. He’s not sure how long he waits there but he could have dozed off for a few minutes before he hears a firm knock at the door.

“Enter.” A fleeting thought runs through his head that he should pretend to look busy so that the other man doesn’t suspect something, but there isn’t time to action that plan before he’s hovering over him.  
“Jesus, you look pretty ropey, Doc,” McCullum comments, gripping the vampires chin and tilting his head up and from side to side to check him over. His hand lingers a moment too long to be a friendly gesture.

“I appear to have made a worrying error in judgement, Geoffrey.”

“That doesn’t sound like you at all, Dr. Reid.” The sarcasm is palpable. Jonathan might laugh if his situation weren’t so dire.

“I shouldn’t have given in to my baser instincts. I understand the nature of addiction yet I thought I could thwart it.” He slammed a fist down on the table. Geoffrey flinched and his hand went instinctively to his pocket.

“No way, vampire.” The hunter shook his head. “I helped you out once because I owed you. I don’t owe you shit now.” He took a step back, his hand withdrawing from his pocket clutching his sacred symbol.

“Geoffrey…” The pleading tone sounded pathetic, even to himself. He managed to drag himself up out of the chair, facing the other man. His shoulders were hunched and there was a dangerous look in his eye. His gaze settled on the cross warily and, though he looked ready to charge forward, he stayed where he was. To his surprise McCullum closed the distance between them. His free hand rested against Jonathan’s bare chest. He felt no heartbeat, though the other man could feel the quick pulse in the hunter’s fingers.

“You’ve fought this before. For months.”

“It’s different.”

“How is it different?” They are whispering as though trying to keep the secret from the very walls themselves. They are so close that Geoffrey can feel the tickle of the vampire’s beard against his cheek. He rests his forehead on the damp plain of his shoulder. The same shoulder he impaled two nights before. There is no evidence of the knife ever being there. He can feel cool breath against his neck and while everything in his being is screaming at him, he can’t bear to move.

“It’s you,” Jonathan murmured into the soft curve of the hunter’s neck.

He feels a sudden pressure against his chest and is repelled backwards into the chair. The crucifix glows brightly and he has to shield his eyes from its brilliance. The holy light is gone as soon as it appears.

“We’re doing this my way, leech,” McCullum growls. “Or not at all.” He steps forward, nudging Jonathan’s knees apart with his own and coming to stand between them. He lifts a hand, running a thumb slowly over the vampire’s bottom lip. The doctor can see the marks left against the pale skin of his wrist, red and angry in the soft light. Lightening fast he grips the hunter’s forearm in a vice-grip. He notices every muscle in the other man’s body tense and feels the air vibrate with his quickening pulse. Leaning forward slowly, grip softening, he presses his lips against the bite. A noticeable shiver races across the skin of McCullum’s arm, hairs raised. Jonathan gazes up at the hunter, hungrily taking in every detail of his expression. The colour in his cheeks. The flicker of his gaze. The bob of his adam’s apple.

“I could devour you.” His voice was low, thrumming with lust and desperate want. He knew how easy it would be to launch himself out of the chair, unrelenting and unrestrained. Take what he needed. But there was something holding him there, balanced on the edge of the pit of his monstrous nature. A curiosity weighing him down and fighting for control.

Geoffrey tested the grip on his arm and found that he could free himself easily. He went into his pocket again, this time withdrawing the bone-handled knife, flicking the blade out in a smooth motion. Lifting the sharp edge toward his lips, his tongue trailed languidly against the honed edge. Droplets of scarlet trickled down the handle and over his fingers. As he leaned forward, Jonathan met him half way, the knife falling to the floor, forgotten. The doctor wrapped his arms around his prey, using his enhanced strength to lift him as he got to his feet. The hunter wrapped his legs around the other man, ignoring the twinge of pain in his abdomen, fingernails digging into the cool expanse of his adversary’s shoulders. Neither of them broke the kiss as they travelled across the room towards Jonathan’s modest bed. The frame creaked ominously as Jonathan lowered them both onto the mattress, Geoffrey straddling his lap.

A forceful hand pushed Jonathan down onto the bed, finally breaking their entanglement. They both panted heavily, eyes raking over each other’s dishevelled state. McCullum’s fingers trailed slowly over the plane of the vampire’s chest, licking the smeared blood from his own lips and pushing tousled hair back away from his face. 

“I want to taste you,” he murmured, hands wandering lower to the fastening of the other man’s breeches.

“Seems only fair,” Jonathan teased, attempting to wrest his internal beast back into its cage. He squeezed the muscles of Geoffrey’s thighs tightly to keep his hands busy as he watched him undo his trousers. The boundary of lust and bloodlust was dissolving and he couldn’t remember the last time he had ached so badly to have someone touch him.

The hunter’s face, so clear and certain amongst all the confusion, disappeared. Before he could lament its loss, a hot, wetness enveloped the tip of his cock and a tense feeling welled up in the pit of his stomach. All thought of blood sustenance was torn from his mind with the rapture caused by McCullum’s tongue sliding down the underside of his prick as he sucked him. So eager was he to intensify the feeling that he thrust up into the hunter’s mouth, causing him to convulse a little and force the vampire’s hips back down into the mattress, pinning him there. 

Jonathan pushed Geoffrey’s hair up to the crown of his head, entwining his fingers there so he could get a better view. The vision of his deadly nemesis with his fingers pressed into his hip and his mouth around his dick pushed him dangerously close to his limit. His head dropped back and he huffed out a sharp breath. McCullum let out a maddening groan that sent vibrations through him and with a spasm he found release, muscles tense, fingers clenched into a tight fist in his hair.

Gradually his muscles relaxed and he let his limbs loosen. Geoffrey crawled slowly up his prone form, taking his time to leave careful kisses and teasing nips along the curves and dips of the vampire’s body. Jonathan props himself up on his elbows to look at the other man.

“You’re turn?” The Hunter laughs at this and shakes his head.

“Those teeth aren’t coming anywhere near my nethers, vampire.”

“I’m sure I can find other ways to make you scream, Geoffrey.” 

And he did.


End file.
